“We need a dog poop,” my husband recently emailed me after Kafka the bulldog had failed to poop for about 24 hours. This is a topic of conversation that has become, surprisingly, normal in our house since Kafka came into our lives. It’s definitely one of the more unexpected parts of dog ownership, and I have to wonder: do other people talk about their pooch’s... feces as much as we talk about ours?
In our defense, Kafka loves to put that massive jaw of his around anything that even resembles food. As a puppy, he adored swallowing everything from pebbles to full-fledged rocks, so much so that during a vet appointment for one of Kafka’s many ailments early on, the vet showed us an x-ray where it looked like a necklace of rocks lined his intestines. Lucky for him -- and our wallets -- he managed to expel every last one of them.
Even though Kafka is two years old now, he still enjoys random things, especially if we don’t see him in time to say, “leave it.” Just the other day, my husband and I were in the den paying bills when we hear the rustle of a plastic shopping bag. Yet again, we both thought to ourselves.
Now normally Kafka just tears open empty bags and leaves them scattered in pieces. But, just in case, my husband went to go see. “Uh, Liz?” he called. “You may want to come out here.” And when I didn’t run over immediately, he added, “NOW.”
Kafka had somehow gotten a plastic bag out of the garbage that I had thrown away at least three days prior. The bag had been full of huge dust bunnies from when I unclogged our vacuum. And Kafka had dumped them back out onto the rug, and joyously gulped a handful of them down like they were the most delicious thing in the world. I’ve only ever see him eat chicken and ice cream (separately, of course) with such gusto.
While they were dust bunnies, it was yet another occasion for us to keep an eye on his dog poop. “Did he poop?” I asked my husband after Kafka’s last walk that same night. And when that answer was “no,” you can bet the conversation about dog droppings continued to the next day.
Then again, who am I kidding? We talk about his poop all the time, but, knock on wood, Kafka has had no serious issues swallowing -- and expelling -- what he’s eaten.
Dog poop was not a topic I thought I’d be talking about with such regularity (pun intended) before we got Kafka the bulldog. But alas, now I just see it as part of owning a dog.
What new, and unexpected, things did you start talking about when you first got a dog?
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